


The Living and the Undead

by thewalrus_said



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, M/M, Mira POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pretty much the only thing the general public could all agree on was that the newcomers, whatever their reason for returning, ought to be put back in the ground, and for good this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Living and the Undead

**Author's Note:**

> This is for prompt #19 by spuzz. Beta-ed by the wonderful leslionsdedieu. All remaining mistakes are my own.

_Devils sent from the underworld,_ some said of them _, sent to punish us for our sins._

 _Mindless beasts,_ said others _. Ought to be put down, before they kill us all._

 _Poor souls,_ said others _, haunted by their previous lives, unable to rest without our help._

Pretty much the only thing the general public could all agree on was that the newcomers, whatever their reason for returning, ought to be put back in the ground, and for good this time.

They were all correct, as it happened, Mira reflected as she shut off the television in the cramped hut, or at least. So far as she and Spartacus could tell, the zombies were people who had died with scores to settle. Their anger or rage or pain was so strong that it drove them back into their bodies and filled their mind with nothing but vengeance. The press didn’t care about their causes, though. It made for a less interesting story than mindless beasts from hell.

Mira leaned back into the ratty couch, remote still in her hand, a moment before the door opened. “Mira?” Spartacus called.

“In here,” she called back. He came in, shrugging his coat off, and saw the remote in her hand.

“Watching the news again?” he asked, tossing his coat across a chair and coming to sit next to her on the couch.

She tucked herself under his offered arm. “Best way to figure out what public opinion is like."

“I could tell you that. Kill the wild animals before they kill us.”

“Only some say that,” Mira argued, twining her fingers into his hand. “Some say they want to mercy-kill the suffering creatures because they’re clearly in pain.”

“Well, that’s nice of them.” Spartacus kissed the top of Mira’s head. “Are there any who say we should live?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” she admitted.

“But you still have hope.”

“I still have hope,” she agreed, shifting further into Spartacus’ embrace. “If we convince the put-the-rabid-animals-down crowd that you're not rabid animals, they might stop wanting to kill us. And if we convince the mercy-killing crowd that you're not in pain, they might accept us as well.”

“It’s a long shot.” Spartacus was silent for a moment, then went on, “You said ‘we’.”

Mira winced internally. He _had_ caught that. “Yes, I did.”

“Even though you’re alive.” Spartacus had this way of phrasing things as statements instead of questions but still making you feel like you had to defend yourself.

“I’ve thrown my lot completely in with you undead,” she said. She pushed herself forward, resting her elbows on her knees and forcing Spartacus’ arm to fall from her shoulders. “As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I’m the same as you. If you’d rather I kept myself separate -”

“Mira,” Spartacus interrupted, leaning forward and resting his forehead against her temple. “I didn’t meant it the way it sounded. I’m sorry. I’m proud to have you standing beside me.”

Mira sighed, but before she could say anything, the door opened again and Crixus stuck his head inside. “Spartacus,” he barked. “They’re here."

Spartacus pressed another kiss to Mira’s temple before standing and offering her a hand. “Shall we go meet the new recruits?” Mira took it, and he pulled her off the couch and out the door, where a small crowd of zombies were huddled, waited for his attention.

Agron stood at their head, arms crossed and a vicious smile across his face. Mira no longer shuddered at the sight of it; vicious expressions were all Agron seemed capable of after his return from death. His had not been a simple resurrection, as Spartacus’ had been; he had clawed his way out of the earth screaming, filled with a rage at the death of his brother that had not yet been quenched. At times Mira still feared that they would lose him to the mindless bloodlust that had taken so many of the others. Especially now, with Nasir dead these four days with no sign of stirring...

Mira tore her mind from that path and returned her attention to Spartacus, who was still regarding the newcomers in silence. The crowd was just beginning to grow loud with impatience when he opened his mouth and boomed out, “How many of you remember your names?”

All of them raised their hands or called out their names, “Saxa! Lugo! Nemetes!” except for one huge block of a man in the back corner who merely snarled and looked around him. The one who said his name was Nemetes slapped him on the shoulder and the man snapped at him. “This brute is called Sedullus,” Nemetes said, pulling his hand back. “He will remember it in time.”

“Let us pray that he does.” Spartacus crossed his arms over his chest. “This is not a place for the slavering beasts of the undead. This is a place for the recovery of humanity, and the fulfillment of those obligations that have brought us back. Needless violence will not be tolerated. All will contribute to the upkeep and well-being of our camp, and in return will receive the camp’s aid in their mission, once you discover what it is. Is this understood?”

There was a general roar of agreement from the crowd. Spartacus nodded, but Mira could see him eyeing Sedullus. _Good_ , she thought. _That one concerns me too_. Spartacus spoke again. “Crixus, take these people somewhere they can rest their heads. They must be tired. Agron, to me.” Crixus headed off to find an open space in the field where the majority made camp; the crowd followed, Sedullus being herded by Lugo and Nemetes. Agron moved forward towards Spartacus, clearly expecting some sort of chastisement for bringing Sedullus into their camp and ready to defend himself. Mira was expecting it too, but when Spartacus spoke it was only to say, in as gentle a tone as he could manage, “Have you had any news of Nasir?”

Agron looked down. “None yet,” he said. “But it will be soon, or not at all.”

“Nasir is strong, and recently lit with the fire of our cause,” Mira said, putting a hand on Agron’s shoulder. “I am sure he will not leave us just yet.” Agron nodded at her, the jerky movement tinged with gratitude.

“Come,” Spartacus said, turning back towards the door of the hut. “While we wait, I would hear news of your trip.” Mira stepped aside to let Agron follow him inside. The door closed behind them and she turned, directing her footsteps towards the medic tent. Naevia was inside, bent over the body of Nasir. She looked up at Mira’s entrance.

“Come and look,” she said, part of her brilliant smile showing itself. She gestured to the wound stretched across Nasir’s side, stitched shut the moment his body had been returned to camp. The healthier the bodies were, the more likely for a clean, safe return to it by the soul, was Spartacus’ theory.

Mira looked at the line of stitches. It took her a few moments to notice, but then she pointed. “The stitches at this end...”

“Are no longer holding his wound shut,” Naevia finished for her, straightening up. “He’s healing.”

“He’s coming back,” Mira said softly, standing up as well. “Excellent.” She beamed at Naevia, who let her smile stretch a little larger in return. “And you?” Mira asked. “How are you faring today?”

“Well, thank you.” Naevia picked up a roll of bandages and fiddled with it. “Better than yesterday, which was better than the day before.”

“As it should be,” Mira said. “Tomorrow will be better still.”

“You sound like Crixus,” Naevia said, a laugh lifting her voice slightly. “He is constantly optimistic. I find it difficult to lose hope when he is around."

“You are lucky, then,” Mira said. “To have someone who brings you such happiness, even in these times.” Mira could remember those first few moments after Crixus’ fall. Naevia had been missing but two days, presumed dead. Crixus had stayed in the afterlife long enough to realize that Naevia was not there, and then had slammed back into his body faster than anyone Mira had seen since.

“I am,” Naevia agreed, blushing slightly. Mira looked back down at Nasir, fighting down the bitterness that threatened to take over her. She had never known such love, and had long suspected that she never would. Naevia must have noticed, because she changed the subject. “Should we tell Agron? About Nasir?”

“Not yet, I think. If Nasir’s body is healing, he will not be long in returning. I’d rather not present hope to Agron, only to have Nasir’s return be compromised. I’m not sure even Spartacus could keep him here after another loss.”

Naevia hummed agreement. “Speaking of Agron, what of the men and women he brought? Are they acceptable additions?”

“Most,” Mira said. She and Naevia drifted out of the medic tent, moving slowly towards where Crixus had led the newcomers. “They are all strong, and appear to be in reasonable condition. If they decide to be loyal to Spartacus, which I believe is likely, they will be valuable help. One could not remember his name, however,” she went on. Naevia turned to look at her, alarm in her eyes. “The largest of the lot. Not, however, so large that we could not bring him down should it become necessary. I hope it does not,” she finished, rounding a corner in the camp and coming across a large clearing, filled with the newcomers. Most were wrestling with tents, and the rest were cutting apart a large animal of some kind. Crixus was among them, but when he saw the two women approaching he handed his knife to another and headed towards them, grabbing a cloth from the ground to wipe his hands on.

“They brought it with them,” he said as he drew nearer, turning to stand beside Naevia and look out over the clearing as well. “They didn’t bring it into the main part of the camp earlier so we didn’t see it, but they have wine as well. We will feast tonight.” He smiled at Naevia. Mira had to drop her eyes again.

Spartacus and Agron joined them soon. Agron dove straight into a mass of the newcomers, slapping them on the bacs and getting slapped in return. Spartacus came up behind Mira and wrapped his arms around her chest. “You seem pensive,” he murmured into her ear.

“I suppose I am,” she replied, allowing herself to relax back into him. “Just thinking about our newcomers. We’re starting to look like a proper movement.”

“We are a proper movement,” Spartacus said, still holding her from behind. “A movement for survival, and for peace, and for justice.”

“Justice,” Mira repeated. “I wonder if that will be a good enough tether.”

Spartacus released her, and she dropped to stretch out on the ground. He sat down next to her. “What do you mean?”

“Take Agron,” she said, gesturing to the air with the hand not tucked under her head. “He is here out of a desire for vengeance and justice for the death of his brother. It’s not something he can ever get. He’s barely tied to this world as it is; eventually his spirit will realize it will never know peace in that regard and it will either give up peacefully or snap. I know which one I’m betting on,” she added.

“Unless he can find another tether,” Spartacus pointed out. “He’s been calmer since Nasir joined us. Has the boy shown any signs of returning?”

“His wound started healing,” Mira admitted. “Naevia showed me earlier. It won’t be long until he returns. We chose not to tell Agron in case he came back in less-than-perfect condition.”

“There may yet be hope for Agron, then.”

“But his tether will be another person, who can leave or die again or come back a mindless beast,” Mira said, annoyance pushing her into a sitting position. “He has no permanent tie to sanity. And even if he were to gain vengeance for Duro, his mind might still snap instead of passing on.”

Spartacus regarded her for a moment, then said softly, “What are you really worried about? This isn’t all about Agron.”

Mira stared at him, then deflated, falling back onto the grass. “That this is all for nothing. That I’ve thrown in my lot with a cause doomed to fail, and I will end up as alone as when I started. More so, even, with you lost to me as well.”

Spartacus smiled then, and reached over to take her hand between both of his. “I do not believe us to be a lost cause. Nor do I believe that the humanity that remains in us is so fragile, so easily broken. Nasir will return to us, whole and sane, Agron will find the stability he lost with Duro, and we shall all of us move forward. This is a time of change and uncertainty. It will not always be so.”

Mira sighed, and Spartacus went on, “Furthermore, even if all I believe is false, and we do all pass from this world or from sanity, you cannot be faulted for wanting to help us. If the world of the fully living does not welcome you back with open arms, then they are not worthy of you.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, and before she could respond, the cry that dinner was ready rang around the clearing.

Mira’s concerns quickly faded to the back of her mind in the face of the staggering amount of wine the newcomers had managed to obtain. It didn’t hurt that Spartacus’ hand only left the small of her back when he needed it to eat, which he mostly managed one-handed. About twenty minutes into the meal, Mira noticed a young blonde woman she remembered seeing with Nasir, wandering the crowd with a plate and cup, looking for a place to sit. Mira suddenly remembered her name through her haze and called out, “Chadara! Come join us!” She looked over at Spartacus to see if he minded, but he was beaming at her, so she turned back to Chadara. “How are you faring?” she asked as the other woman sat down next to her.

“Well enough,” Chadara said, “though yours is the first friendly face I’ve seen turned my way all day.”

“It will pass,” Spartacus said, swallowing a chunk of meat. “These times are not the best for the birth of friendships. Know, however, that you may always find two friends in us, should you need them.” Mira nodded in agreement. Chadara just smiled faintly and turned back to her plate. They ate in silence for a few more moments.

Mira was turning to Chadara, her mouth open to ask a question, when a roar came from the other side of the clearing. Spartacus was up in a moment, meal forgotten, and Mira stayed close to his heels as he shoved his way through the crowd. Mira could not help a sick sense of satisfaction from forming in her gut when she saw what was happening. _I was right about Sedullus after all._ Agron and Crixus were both hanging off the huge man, who had finally snapped. Foam was dripping from his mouth, eyes bulging, as he strained against the two men. Mira followed his line of sight and saw that Naevia, huddled in a corner. “Spartacus,” she yelled, before going to her. Naevia all but fell into her arms, shaking, and Mira saw Spartacus dive into the fray. Nemetes and Lugo came running as well, but could not get close enough to Sedullus to help.

“He cornered me against a tent,” Naevia whispered, pulling herself slightly out of Mira’s arms.

“It’s all right now,” Mira said, turning back to her and putting a hand against the side of her face. “He’ll be taken care of.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Naevia said. “There were rocks nearby. I managed to pick one up...”

Mira’s heart jumped. “Did you manage to land a blow?”

Naevia nodded. “His ribs. On the left side.”

Mira smiled at her, and then turned. “Spartacus!” she yelled again, louder this time. “His left ribcage is injured!” Spartacus heard her and landed his next punch in that spot. Sedullus let out a roar of agony and stumbled. Spartacus hit him again, and again. Mira turned back to Naevia. “You did well,” she said. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“Agron heard him cry out and managed to pull him away. And then Crixus came...” Naevia jerked, looking around Mira at the struggling men. Sedullus was on one knee, still swinging but visibly slowing now. “Crixus! Is he injured?”

“He doesn’t seem to be,” Mira promised. “Large as he is, the brute is no match for the three of them, especially without his mind. They will all be fine.” She heard a sickening crack and turned around. Spartacus had his arms wrapped around Sedullus’ head, which was now twisted at a sharp angle. Spartacus let go and the man dropped face-first into the grass and did not move again. “See?” Mira said, turning back to Naevia and helping her up. “It is over now.” Naevia was still shaking, but Crixus was by her side in two strides and Mira stepped aside to let them reunite.

She went to Agron, who was still snarling at the fallen Sedullus, and laid a hand on his arm. He looked at her and his face eased, battle lust fading from his eyes, leaving shame behind. “Do not blame yourself,” she murmured to him. “He was on the knife’s edge. None of us could have predicted which way he would fall.”

They both turned to Spartacus, who still stood behind the body, now surrounded by people. The laughter and ease of the meal was gone, and they were all staring at him. He looked at them in return, and began to speak. “I regret that it came to this,” he began, still looking around him. “This is not the end I would have wished for this man. He had a life before, a family, hopes and dreams. But he lost them, and in doing so he lost himself. Let this serve as a reminder to remain steadfast and strong. We must all stand together, and tether each other to this world. Only by doing so can we earn our place, and prove to those who would kill us that we are not monsters. Not if we stand together.”

Agron called out, “I will stand with you, Spartacus!” Mira echoed the cry, and the people in the crowd picked it up. Soon the clearing was echoing with yells and shouts - people’s names, their histories, their identities, that they were sharing with those around them. Mira looked over her shoulder and saw Crixus and Naevia slip away in the chaos.

The morning saw everyone more subdued, the living hungover and the undead remembering the inhuman gleam in Sedullus’ eyes as he fought to get to Naevia. Naevia herself had repaired to the medic’s tent as soon as she woke. Mira joined her shortly afterwards, breakfast with Spartacus having proven a tense, unhappy affair. “How are you?” she asked carefully.

Naevia smiled at her, bright and shocking. “I am well, more well than I was expecting to be. I have wrung a promise from Crixus that he will teach me more effective ways of felling an enemy than a stone to the ribs. I had not thought he would agree.”

“I do not think there is a thing he would not do if you asked,” Mira said. “I’m happy for you. Truly. And how is the patient?”

“His wound is closing still, and faster, if I had to guess. As if the skin were making up for lost time by knitting itself back together with unnatural speed.”

“He will still be injured when he wakes, surely?” Mira asked, frowning and moving closer to Nasir.

“Yes, of course, but the wound will not be fatal,” Naevia replied. Before she could go on, the body on the table shook violently and Nasir’s eyes flew open as his mouth gasped for breath. “Calm yourself!” Naevia cried, throwing her hands onto his shoulders to keep him down. “Calm yourself. You are safe, but you are still wounded. You must not reopen it or it may prove fatal again.”

Nasir sucked in another breath, and for a panicked moment Mira was convinced he had not understood, had not been able to understand. But then he closed his eyes and whispered, “Again. So it was death, then.”

His voice was harsh and Mira grabbed a bowl that had been filled with water. She held it over his open mouth and he drank, wetting his parched throat and gasping again. “You’ve been gone for five days,” she confirmed. “You were attacked with an axe, by an undead woman who had lost her senses.”

“I remember,” Nasir said, swallowing and leaning his head back down to the table.

“Do you remember the time in between?” Mira questioned, passing the bowl to Naevia, who put it down next to her feet to be refilled when she left.

“Just darkness,” Nasir said, opening his eyes again. “And a sense of the passing of time, although I had no way to track it. The same as the others we have questioned.” Mira nodded. “Where is Agron?”

“Still sleeping, I think,” Naevia answered from his other side. “There was an incident yesterday. A recruit lost himself and attacked me. Agron was involved in the fight to subdue him.”

“I will wake him,” Mira assured him, stepping back. “Naevia, will you stay with him until then? You know more about reawakenings than I do.” Naevia nodded and Mira dashed out of the tent, weaving her way through the camp until reaching Agron’s tent. She grabbed his shoulder and shook him awake, ducking the instinctual blow he threw before fully waking. “Come. Nasir is awake. He has asked for you.”

Agron threw himself from the bed and out of the tent before Mira could straighten back up. She followed him, catching up in time to see him race through the front flap of the medic’s tent. Naevia slipped out the back a moment later. Through the gap in the front opening Mira could see Agron pull Nasir into a fierce kiss, carefully holding him up while Nasir grabbed his shoulders to pull him closer.

“We should tell Spartacus,” Naevia prompted, and Mira tore her eyes away from the two men’s happiness and nodded. She led the way to the hut where she and Spartacus slept, and opened the door to find Crixus and Spartacus huddled over the small table, deep in conversation.

Spartacus noticed them first and broke off mid-sentence. “What has happened?”

“Something good, for once,” Mira assured him. “Nasir has woken up. To my eyes he seems fine. Exactly as he was, in fact.”

“Excellent news indeed!” Crixus said, starting to move towards the door. “I will go to him now, before the memory of death fades, and see what he remembers.”

“There is no need,” Naevia said, blocking his way with a hand on his chest, which he touched with one of his own. “Mira asked, he remembers nothing but darkness and the passing of time. Besides,” she added, a giggle escaping her lips, “Agron is with him. Interrupting them would perhaps not be wise.”

Crixus lifted her hand from his chest and kissed it. “Perhaps,” he agreed, the sight of her joy raising his spirits as well. “We must celebrate, later. Nasir is a good man, and I am glad he has returned to us.”

“Celebrate now,” Spartacus said. When Crixus turned to him, he went on, “The matter we were discussing can wait, especially in the face of news such as this. Go, raise a toast to Nasir.” He waved his hand towards the door, and Naevia pulled Crixus out of it.

“What matter were you discussing?” Mira asked as soon as the door swung closed.

“Chadara is missing,” Spartacus replied, leaning back against the table with a heavy sigh. “One of the women saw her slip away when the fight broke out last night, and no one has heard from her since. I worry she may have been frightened by the violence and run back to civilization.”

“If she takes the story to the news, if the press gets hold of it,” Mira said, “it may be the push needed to convince humanity that we need to be gotten rid of. Even those who remember their pasts will be seen as a threat.”

“I fear that too,” Spartacus agreed. “I have sent a small party to look for her, and if they find her, to discover her plans.”

“Not to bring her back?”

“I will not force a living person who does not wish to help our cause to stay with us.” Spartacus shook his head. “If she wishes to leave, then it must be allowed. All that can be done in that case is convince her not to turn on us.”

“Hardly a reliable plan,” Mira remarked before she could stop herself.

Spartacus looked up at her. “And what would you have me do? Send an arrow through her throat while she flees? Then we are no different than what she fears us to be.”

Before Mira could respond, Crixus came flying in through the door, sending it slamming back against the wall. “Attack,” he barked, catching the door on the backswing. “There’s a crowd headed towards us. They have torches, and weapons.”

“Get your bow,” Spartacus said to Mira before bolting from the hut with Crixus. Mira ran to the bedroom she shared with him, pulling the bow and quiver of arrows she used to hunt game from the closet and then raced after the two men.

She found them among the trees to the east of their camp. A runner was doubled over, gasping for breath between words as he explained what had been seen to Spartacus. A group of about twenty men were making their way towards the camp, drunk and furious that the undead had formed so near them. “I saw a blonde woman with them, towards the back,” he went on, pushing himself back up with a hand on each knee. “She looked familiar, and frightened.”

“Chadara,” Spartacus said grimly, and Mira nodded even though he wasn’t looking at her. “How long before they arrive?”

“Maybe ten minutes.” Spartacus clapped the runner on the shoulder and sent him off for water.

“We’ll have to fight them,” Crixus said, turning to face his friend. “It doesn’t sound like they can be reasoned with.”

“I intend to try.” Spartacus finally turned to face Mira. “I want you to the side with an arrow ready, though. Crixus is most likely correct.”

“I’ll be ready.” She shifted her grip on the bow, and properly slung her quiver across her back.

It seemed that she barely had time to blink before she could hear the sound of the crowd approaching, and another heartbeat before the first of them appeared in front of them, five more spreading out behind him. _Where are the rest of them?_ Mira wondered. Spartacus had chosen a place among the trees that was still fairly clear. Mira could make the shot if she had to. Another beat and she realized the man in front was holding a gun.

Spartacus spoke first. “How can we help you?”

“You can get the fuck out of here,” the man snarled. He wasn’t nearly as drunk as Mira had expected. “Preferably back to hell where you belong.”

“This is public land,” Spartacus said, cutting off Crixus who looked about to jump in. “I made sure of it before setting up camp here.”

“Public to humans,” the man shot back. “Not zombie freaks like you.”

“There are humans among us.” Crixus shifted behind Spartacus as he kept talking. Mira could see the tension in both of them. “We are able to live in peace in such close quarters. It would be preferable to live in peace with our neighbors as well.”

“Are you refusing to leave?” The man seemed surprised, as though he had not expected such open defiance.

Spartacus raised his chin. “I am.”

Mira saw the arm with the gun move and fired before thinking twice. The arrow went into the meat of the man’s shoulder and he dropped the gun before staggering a few steps backward and falling to his knees. Crixus dove for the fallen gun and picked it up, pointing it at the other men who abruptly stopped moving forward. Mira notched another arrow and took aim. One of the five finally noticed her. Slapping the arm of the man next to him, he turned and fled. The rest followed, two of them supporting their leader. Mira lowered her bow, and a few moments later, Crixus followed suit with the gun.

“Where are the rest of them?” Mira wondered again, this time out loud.

“I think we’d best get back to camp,” Spartacus said by way of answer.

They found the rest, three of them still fighting, the other twelve spread out in a line on the ground. Mira saw Saxa jump on one man and fell him with a kitchen knife, stabbing it into his throat until he finally dropped. Agron had one man by the hair and smashed his head into the ground, hard, before Spartacus managed to bellow “Enough!” Mira spun around in time to see the last man fall, his weight wrenching the handle of the knife out of Naevia’s hands. “What happened?” Spartacus asked, his voice quiet.

“They had guns,” Agron said, pushing himself up and wiping the dust from his hands, “and knives. They slaughtered thirteen of us, living and not, before we could get our hands on them.”

“No choice was left.” Saxa was still clutching her kitchen knife. “It was kill or be killed.”

Spartacus stood, eyes closed, for a solid minute. Mira felt her stomach twisting itself into complex knots. Crixus held Naevia in his arms and did not seem to care what Spartacus said, but the rest were all staring at him, waiting.

Finally he opened his eyes. “I suppose, then, that we are officially at war.”


End file.
